pafp if you know, like I know | questions

[Sablemist]

In every situation you give me peace

The young skunk striped kitten was diligently watching Smokethroat for the past several minutes, periwinkle eyes following the tom as he went about his duties around the makeshift campsite. On more than one occasion she'd noticed how much the lead warrior and the river king seemed to gravitate toward one another. Content to stay in one another's company and so it begged a question that she so desperately wished to be answered. It was not a matter of whether the two like-liked each other, but something else entirely. Quietly the girl stands to her paws, walking over to where the he sat fumbling with something as she gently taps her ivory lined tail against his side to gather his attention.

"Smokethroat, are you and uncle Cicada married? If not can I be the flower girl? I promise to pick only the best flowers." Sablekit voices with a bright smile touching her lips, Though the expression falters as a single paw moves to touch her chin. "By the way, what's taking you two so long?" They liked each other a lot right? Surely they would show everyone how much they did. Placing her paw back upon the ground she gazes up at the man. "I guess that means I can call you uncle Smoke now...right?" She asks, bombarding the poor man with questions.​

Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​

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[SMOKESTAR]

His track record for weaving something and it looking nice was still low, at the very least it was structurally sound but it certainly looked hideous. Smokethroat scoffed, hissed to himself in annoyance as he snapped another reed by bending it a touch too forcefully, the shelters just needed to hold temporarily until the water receeded; he didn't care if it was ugly and anyone who pointed it out could shove it. So long as they had some defense against the cold, something to gather beneath and huddle together...they would manage. It would be nice to have privacy but in this freeze and without a proper camp it was best to all remain huddles in their groups and kept close to add further warmth. It was irritating to finally have a secluded place to sleep with the one cat he cared to share it with only for the river to rise up and swallow the entire den whole; damned water, damned leaf-bare. It made a tom want to curse at the top of his lungs but instead he broke another reed with a disgruntled sigh, launching it a mutter of annoyance until a small voice pipped up to speak to him and he paused long enough to turn his head and find the little white-striped mite.

Sablekit spoke, her words made no sense at first and he had to mull them over in his head for a moment before realizing her intentions. OH!
Married?! That was that two-leg nonsense he'd heard from loners before, some nonsensical arrangement with couples milling about and throwing grains and flowers or whatever at one another; he was only just vaguely aware of it from his time on the streets meeting various cats from different backgrounds. Flower girl, he supposed that was the duty of the kits then, to toss about plants in some whimsical and wasteful display. That the girl was so bold as to just outright ask him if they intended some public affair of it all, he was tempted to eat her. His nose wrinkled as he grimaced, trying to think of how to dissuade further pestering when she just outright called him uncle (or rather asked but it was still stated) and he waved a paw at her dismissively.
"What-no. No..No! We are not....I mean we are, but we're not...who told you about these things..."
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[Sablemist]

In every situation you give me peace

Upon finishing her seemingly unending questions, Sable cocks her head, confused as Smokethroat stammers out his answer. "who told you about these things..." A small smile touches her lips once more. "My dad talked about twoleg stuff before." But the child's smile morphs into a sly grin as she settles into a sit, fluffy tail draped across her paws. "But if you mean who told me about if you two really like-like each other, then no one. I just knew. Mom calls it a molly's in two...into...intuition!" Sablekit exclaims, eyes shimmering with obvious pride. It made her feel extra intelligent when the things she guessed were correct. "So, uncle Smoke...if you're not married. What are you?" Unfortunately for the ivory speckled tom, a repetative wave of the paw would do little as a deterrent. ​

Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​

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[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

she can't help it, nor could she hide the snort that forms after listening in on the conversation. cicada and smoke are about the most insufferable toms she had ever met, and of course, they would be so foolish and attracted to each other. yet too fearful to do anything about it. of course, maybe buck can't really speak on withholding confessions with how she and lightning have danced around a topic for so long. but that's beside the point. buck has a good reason for her withdrawals.

"they're hopeless fools." comes the deputy's drawl, a tinge of joy echoing on the tail-end of her interruption. oh, what a beautiful and joyous day to harass smokethroat over this. and sablekit had already started on it for her! wonderful, truly. the cinnamon-furred woman settles beside the young kit, a shit-eating grin accompanying her features as she glares upon smokethroat. "when you two gonna just say it? poor sable shouldn't have to wait so long to celebrate." she can't wrap her tongue around the words of marriage of flower girl, nor is she entirely sure what it even means. all that she can infer is some celebration, obviously something to do with mateship. it seems smokethroat knows what it means. and so does wolverinefang.

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[SMOKESTAR]

Molly's intuition. It actually earns a snort of a laugh from him because he's heard that before plenty of times. These she-cats thought they could just assume things and be correct...well okay, maybe this one instance she was but that was besides the point. Why was this kid left unattended so much she could watch with such observing, beady little eyes. Where was Boneripple, he was going to blame her for this.
"We're....it's...it's complicated...it's-" StarClan help him, he's already frustrated when Buckgait arrives and he's glaring at her well before she even sits down to properly speak.
He resists the urge to roll his one eye at the cinnamon molly's comment shakes his head as she picks at him because she is so unhappy in her own life her only delight is bothering him in his, but a smile flashes white across his face as he turns to her, fiery gaze lighting up and sparking with mischief.
The dark tom ignores her remark, her question she asked only to be a thorn in his side and he responds cheerfully with his own, "How are things with Lightningstone?" Now...any half-blind fool could see something going on there and as she said...he was a fool and he certainly was half-blind. The tom's tail twitched, delighted at his own daring and perhaps if she couldn't take what she dished out then she really was a poor example of a RiverClan cat. Paperskin, brittle bones. He hoped she fell in the river that was their camp.
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[Cindershade]

Twist and turn, now weave and pull tightly. The repetitive motion of weaving brambles together with lengthy reeds into a make-shift den. She flinches as thorns graze over her shaded paws, but doesn't utter a word. She pulls up another reed, quietly repeating her steps over and over as she reinforces the dens not too far from where Smokethroat positioned himself. Whereas her reinforcement was more refined and orderly, his was—usable, she supposed as her haze flicks over towards him with a lightly raised brow. It was a good thing Smokethroat held his own in other things, unfortunately weaving was just not his forte. Cindershade almost opens her maw to lend out a suggestion, but another dark figure enters her vision. Sablekit settles herself down to the speckled tom, speaking to him then.
The girl was most certainly forthright in her speaking, the mention of Smokethroat and Cicadastar's courtship nearly had her spitting with laughter at the very mention of them. All she could see was Smokethroat dangling helplessly between the mounds of snow that buried him and the other tom into the den, trappimg them both before her and a few others dug them out. The rosetted warrior shoved that familiar giddiness down as it threatened to spill over her tongue and shove past her lips with a cough, passing it as something lingering in the back of her throat. She speaks of—marriage? Evidently something to do with couples, but Cindershade knew nothing about it. Love interests never necessarily crossed her mind, though it seemed to prick at the ears of others as they tried to fondle into her business. Her minds flicks to Snakeblink then, his meddling into her personal life had a bitterness rumbling in her chest before accidentally snapping a reed of her own. Dammit! She sighs, grabbing another reed from her pile while flicking a black ear towards the trio.
A familiar drawl pulls Cindershade in further from her chores, and a mischievous grin pulls at her own lips as Buckgait chips in. She hunches forward, trying to hide her face as she threw verbal jabs at him, only imagining the entertained expression that lightened the deputy's face. Poor Sable shouldn't have to wait so long to celebrate. That same giddiness threatens to unearth itself again, covered over by another mere cough. The warrior debates on whether or not to walk away and snicker in her own solitude—but this was just too damn good. Silence fiddles around in the air, tension prickling at the fur along her spine before Smokethroat speaks. How are things with Lightningstone?
Cindershade immediately snorts, feebly trying to cover it up with yet another cough. She can't stop it, the dam had been split and now the flooding river of laughter flows through. A snicker would soon explode into a series of cackles. She reels back, one paw clutching at her abdomen as she howls to the air. The warrior tries to plant her other paw over her mouth to quiet herself but it's too late. Tears pricked at her vibrant gaze as she gasps for air. "Stop! I can't—" her voice cracks, sputtering and trying to force herself to stop but she's too tickled to do so.
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​